


aberration

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, disturbing/violent imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiryuu falls apart, Yuusei's been trying to pick up the pieces for years. Post-series.</p><hr/><p>Last night's ygo69 prompt was "monster(s)", though this took me longer than 69 minutes, for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aberration

It starts benignly enough. Yuusei's visiting — he tries to come once a month, at least, but sometimes he admits that when work is busy he can't tell a week from a month. Kiryuu understands, Yuusei's kind of intense focus comes at the cost of being able to see the wider picture. It was the same way that, and Kiryuu _knows_ this as sure as he knows that he's alive, Yuusei was able to fall in love with him in the first place. They always take a day, just one because Kiryuu has responsibilities and more than one makes Yuusei feel guilty, to just have to themselves. Sometimes it's as simple as a day trip out into the desert to sleep under the stars and marvel at the giant cacti and red rock statues made by nature.

This time, they go camping by the thin river that's only alive during the late spring and dries up in the summer. Kiryuu always thinks it's a bit magical — there shouldn't be enough water to sustain it and yet every year the river bursts into existence, only to dry up in a few weeks. They don't bring a tent, just stretch a tarp out on the ground, cover it with blankets and create a lean-to using their D-Wheels as anchors. Like always, it's Yuusei who initiates the first kiss.

Kiryuu, like always, accepts it without returning it. It's not that he doesn't want to — but he knows that Yuusei is still looking for the Kiryuu he can save. It's funny, how that works. Yuusei who works so hard to make up for Zero Reverse and the supposed dark future that looms ahead, and Yuusei who forgives _everyone_ but himself, still hasn't quite figured out that the Kiryuu he's searching for is long dead.

But, this time, when Yuusei leans back his shirt rides up just enough to show off the scar — jagged, unpleasant, as long as Kiryuu's thumb — he got during their battle. Kiryuu can't take his eyes off of it and even when Yuusei settles back and his shirt hides the scar from view again, he can't look away.

"Kiryuu?" Yuusei asks, but his voice is drowned out by the sound of blood and a pulse. Kiryuu can hear his own heartbeat, but he can also hear the heavier, more ancient heartbeat, of an old god that used to live in the earth.

"Hm? Sorry, got distracted." Kiryuu smiles at him, but he feels like he's showing too many teeth. When Yuusei reaches over and places his hand on Kiryuu's shoulder everything is too hot and too close and Kiryuu thinks about the scar on Yuusei's stomach being fresh and bleeding and his smile grows more brittle by the second.

"Being responsible for a town is pretty tough," Yuusei says, he doesn't seem to notice. Kiryuu wants to laugh, and he wants to cry. "You're doing a great job."

"I have a lot of support." Kiryuu means to take Yuusei's hand, shift it off his shoulder, but instead he laces their fingers together. He thinks about squeezing Yuusei's hand so hard that the bones shatter. If he shuts his eyes — which he does, momentarily — he can see white bone push through skin and ultimately the rough leather of Yuusei's gloves. His stomach rolls, but not just with disgust. 

"It's still a lot." Yuusei says, stubbornly, he's always giving Kiryuu an out.

And Kiryuu has never been able to not take advantage.

When they go to sleep — Yuusei sleeps, dropping to the ground and falling asleep as quickly as ever. It's a consequence of his work ethic and the mistake that he always feels safe around Kiryuu. It starts at the base of Kiryuu's neck and travels down his spine, down his arms and to his fingertips. An electric feeling of _more_ and he knows what it is, because it was his most constant companion — craving. When he settles down next to Yuusei he doesn't even try to stop himself; Kiryuu slides his hand under the hem of Yuusei's shirt, rests his thumb against the scar tissue there.

He's plagued by pleasant dreams, that night. Kiryuu dreams of breaking Yuusei's body across the ground — with _his_ dark god, with his own hands, with a heavy baton stolen from Security. He dreams of straddling Yuusei's waist and digging his thumbnails into the soft spot under Yuusei's jaw until he bleeds. When he wakes, just before sunrise, Kiryuu's hand is wet and slick and hot and he thinks it must be blood, it must be Yuusei's blood and he can't stop the spiraling cackle that slips out of his mouth. It's enough to wake Yuusei, who twists around next to him, eyes wide because he _knows_ that laugh. But when Yuusei catches Kiryuu's hands, they're wet and warm with sweat and Yuusei is solid and alive next to him and it was _just a dream_.

"Are you sure you can do it, alone?" Yuusei asks — he's still thinking about Satisfaction Town, about if it's putting Kiryuu under too much stress. The worry is clear in his eyes and Kiryuu has to smile, knows it's ragged but there's nothing else he can do.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's been — really nice to have you visit. You should come more often, you're good stress relief." Kiryuu wipes his hands on the blankets, but the feeling of slickness won't leave, even when they ride back to Satisfaction Town.

Yuusei wants to stay longer than normal, but Kiryuu insists he go. He needs Yuusei to go because in ever blood red sunset that washes over Yuusei he feels another part of his control disappear. It's like being eroded by the tide, Kiryuu knows it's only a matter of time before there's nothing left but who he used to be. There's a certain amount of irony to it — isn't that who Yuusei was searching for all this time?

So, Yuusei listens to him — he's always, always, been so bad at disagreeing with Kiryuu. When he departs, though, he lingers — leans in close so their foreheads touch so he can say, "I'm always here for you, if you need me." And Kiryuu knows that it's actually _if you want me_ because Yuusei would never turn down a friend in need, he only has to say it if it's something extra than just necessity. And, because, once Yuusei had said the exact same thing, only it had been: _I'm always here for you. I love you._

"I know." Kiryuu says, pulls his jaws into a smile that feels far too much like a lie. "See you next month." He watches Yuusei disappear through the horizon line and hopes work distracts Yuusei for as long as possible. He'll just have to get better, before he visits again.

* * *

It doesn't "get better." Nico notices it first, because she's always been perceptive and because she's older and it's _her_ responsibility to look out for West, no matter what Kiryuu promises. She catches Kiryuu in the early mornings after long nights of dreams that leave him washing his hands and face in the sink for half an hour. She stands in the doorway to the bathroom as the water runs, and then, finally, says something.

"What's wrong?" She doesn't accuse, but Kiryuu knows kids better than that. He knows kids who have been through tough times like her are always on the lookout. If he was her he would have been long gone by now, everyone in Satellite (except, maybe, Yuusei) could tell when an adult had started to go sour.

"Nothing, just a weird night." Kiryuu lies, smiles. "What should we do for breakfast, today?"

It hurts, the way she starts shuttling West off during the day. Nico keeps an eye on Kiryuu and an eye on West. She makes sure that West is never alone and even moves his bed into her room. West thinks it's stupid, especially when she won't give an answer as to why — but Kiryuu doesn't fight it. He knows, too, that she's right. 

Because there are nights when he's _certain_ he's not dreaming and he comes to himself again, hours outside of town — he must have walked, but is so disoriented he can't remember. His mind tells him he didn't walk through the desert but through mist and shadow and that his hands are tired and shaking because he also walked to Neo Domino in the same fashion and strangled Yuusei in his sleep. Or that there's blood on his knuckles because his feet took him to the deepest parts of what used to be Satellite, where the buildings and roads are still ruined and the people there wouldn't be missed.

The worst of it is that Kiryuu is having more fun than he's had in a long time. He smiles more, he laughs more, he feels _so alive_.

By the time Yuusei visits again, Kiryuu feels like a changed man. He's tossed aside the dusty long coat, settling for something shorter, darker, that soaks up the sun and leaves his shoulders feeling hot. He doesn't cut his hair, even though he's thought about it — in the morning, after waking. The morning Yuusei was due to arrive, he almost did it. Kiryuu leaned close to the mirror, wondered if his eyes had always been that yellow, he couldn't seem to recall what he looked like anymore. Was this Kiryuu Kyousuke? Something seemed so wrong, so _off_. He dug his fingernails into his cheek, under his right eye and thought about how the pain seemed so distant —

Scissors would be nice. He could cut his hair then, keep it off his shoulders and out of his eyes. Then what else would go? Should he pare off his lips, his earlobes? Should he cut off each of his fingertips and let the blood run down his skin and pool on the floor? No, of course not. He knew what he would do, tuck the scissors into his pocket and keep them ready and waiting because Yuusei was coming. Yuusei who always visited, like clockwork because old habits died hard. Kiryuu wonders, would Yuusei still beg for him to turn back, this time? Perhaps, if they didn't duel at all but instead Kiryuu stuck the scissors in deep, next to the old scar on his stomach, and ripped them up into Yuusei's chest —

Kiryuu had thought about cutting his hair that morning, but he didn't.

Yuusei can tell something is different, he looks Kiryuu over — twice. His eyes run from Kiryuu's eyes to his shoes and back up again. "Where should we go this time?" He asks, instead of _Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you still struggling?_ That's always been one of Yuusei's flaws, especially when it came to Kiryuu.

"Let's go for a few days, I'm sure Nico will be okay with it. She's old enough to keep an eye on West — I'd like to spend more time with you, Yuusei! It's been too long, it always is. You never stay long enough. I've missed you." Kiryuu can tell his voice is speeding along, that there's a bounce to his words. He can even feel a laugh build, deep in his chest, but he drags it down.

"If you're sure," Yuusei smiles, though, "You're right, I'm always rushing to head back home. We could use the time to really catch up with each other."

"Just like old times!" Kiryuu grins, drops his arm around Yuusei's shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel Yuusei's pulse in his neck, and he thinks about how lovely it would be if it just stopped.

Kiryuu leads the way and they drive and drive until it's dark and honestly he has no idea where they are. Yuusei doesn't mind, though, his face is flushed too and there's that small grin that Kiryuu knows means he's having fun. Out of all of them — except Kiryuu — Yuusei had always loved a little bit of danger. It's one of the few secrets that Kiryuu refuses to share with anyone, about him. He likes to keep that part of Yuusei to himself.

And, it's Kiryuu who kisses Yuusei first, this time. They're barely off their D-Wheels when Kiryuu steps over to him and fists his jacket collar and yanks him into a hard kiss. It's hard enough that he splits Yuusei's lip with the impact, he knows th blood is real this time because he can _taste_ it. Yuusei doesn't shove him away, instead he leans closer, drags his hand through Kiryuu's hair — he really should have cut it that morning, some of it catches on the buttons on Yuusei's jacket sleeve. The kiss is returned, softer, slower, more gentle but just as intense.

It's not enough. Kiryuu sucks Yuusei's lower lip into his mouth and bites, hard enough that Yuusei's wordless pleasure turns to pain and he yanks on Kiryuu's hair. Yuusei had never been much of a hair yanker before, Kiryuu remembers. He'd never really minded the biting before, either, just tilted his head back to show Kiryuu his neck. Things have changed, Kiryuu vaguely remembers, Yuusei's _changed_.

Yuusei breaks the kiss, pulls Kiryuu's head back by the hair and turns his face to the side. There's no mistaking the flush on his cheeks, the way his lips can't stay in a line of disapproval. Kiryuu _knows_ he likes it.

"Are you all right?" Yuusei asks in a way that infuriates him. Yuusei always makes Kiryuu think they're aligned and then fucks it up like this. He pulls the rug out from under him and makes _Kiryuu_ feel like the bad guy. Like it wasn't Yuusei's fucking fault in the beginning.

Kiryuu laughs, then. He throws back his head and lets the laugh just _boil_ out. It feels good to let it go, because it was twisting up his insides and once it leaves his lips he feels like he can look Yuusei in the eyes again. He grins.

Yuusei stares back, any of the shadow of fear that Kiryuu _knew_ Yuusei used to have — twice over, even — is gone. There's an unyielding determination instead.

"What the hell, Yuusei!" Kiryuu spits. "What do you think you're doing?" Kiryuu gestures, lets his arm arc out wide and unforgiving. Theatrical, he knows. Some part of his mind says, _this isn't necessary_. He wants to break that part of himself apart. It's no good. It's getting in the way. 

He's so dissatisfied. So fucking dissatisfied.

"Did something happen?" Yuusei continues, but he's planted himself like a fighter, now. Kiryuu sneers. "Kiryuu!"

"Hey, Yuusei, haven't you been craving this version of me anyway? I was thinking that the last time you visited. Who I became wasn't enough for you, was it. Was it ever good enough for you? Ha! Fucking hell, you've always had something up your sleeve, right? Always thinking about other things, never just content to have _us_. And yet never strong enough to stick with it either." Kiryuu knows that the words are disordered, that's not what he wants to say, entirely. He wants to accuse Yuusei of not caring, of leaving him behind again, of not being able to settle for the — now old, then present, _that_ version of Kiryuu.

Someone, not him, he wouldn't, but someone else that lives curled up in the back of his mind and the bottom of his heart suggests: You can only show him the truth by showing him how much it hurt. Kiryuu agrees. Kiryuu disagrees. He feels himself fragment a little more. 

"No," Yuusei says. "I haven't been."

"Are you done lying to me?" Kiryuu snaps. He doesn't exactly know what Yuusei's been lying about except maybe everything. Possibly everything. But for how long? Ever since Crash Town became Satisfaction Town? Since the last visit? Some number between? What is most important? He can't remember.

The blood on Yuusei's lips has already dried. It isn't enough, it isn't enough to satisfy Kiryuu. Not Yuusei's calm attitude, not the way he doesn't seem to be affected by this at all, not the way that Yuusei _accepts_ him. Fuck him, fuck him and his high and mighty attitude.

That's not right.

And, of course, Yuusei closes the distance between them and gathers Kiryuu in his arms and says, "I'm sorry."

It gives him something to focus on. That had all been wrong. Yuusei never abandoned him it hadn't been his fault, they had parted on amicable terms, this time around. Kiryuu laughs, but this time it isn't manic but low and gravelly and he says, "You shouldn't have come."

"I'm never going to leave you."

Kiryuu wants to imagine the tremor in Yuusei's hands, but some part of him knows that's not true at all.

* * *

He wants to tear Yuusei apart. It seems like a simple solution. He doesn't really know the problem, just the continued disquiet that's become part of him like an extra limb. Yuusei stays with him, a day becomes a week becomes a month and they travel. They duck in and out of Satisfaction Town to settle disagreements, to check on Nico and West, but they can't stay too long. Kiryuu's darkness becomes too apparent, too unsettled, and they leave again.

If Yuusei dies, everything would be all right again — he knows that's not the right answer. Kiryuu _knows_ and yet the idea keeps coming to him. If the scales were somehow balanced, if Yuusei _paid_ then Kiryuu's life could go back to normal. It was always Yuusei who was disrupting things.

It was Yuusei, years ago, that caught Kiryuu's eye in Satellite. Yuusei who tricked Kiryuu into thinking he would stay with him forever and then betrayed him. It was thoughts of Yuusei that brought Kiryuu back from the dead for some piece of shit god to cause havoc in his body. And, Yuusei's doubt in him recently, had been the last straw. The part of Kiryuu that knows the truth, that he'd _invited_ it, reveled in it, filled himself with the dark willingly — stays silent.

Yuusei offers himself up — Kiryuu thinks, anyway. That's the only reason why Yuusei would stick with him and then, one evening, crouch down next to him and say, "I'm sorry."

And Kiryuu will take him for all he's worth.

Kiryuu twists, it's almost a predatory lunge, and knocks Yuusei over and leans over him. He wants to laugh because for the first time in a while Yuusei looks surprised. Part of Kiryuu thinks _this is what you get for trusting_ and the other part thinks, _you haven't seen anything yet._ His hands go to Yuusei's throat and just rest there. His fingers twitch but don't squeeze, not yet.

"Do you get it now, Yuusei? Do you get it _now_? There's never been anything here for you to save in the end!" No, that's not what Kiryuu wants to say. "What if I killed you, now? We can make up for lost time that way! Do you remember, you were so scared of me. It was the best, Yuusei! The look on your face was the very fucking best!"

Yuusei puts his hands on Kiryuu's wrists. "Come back." He says. Kiryuu's fingers spasm again.

"Do you know the difference between being alive and dead?" Kiryuu keeps talking, he talks over Yuusei. He doesn't want to hear it. "When you're alive, you want things. It's the _want_ that means you're still her. Desire is where we leave our mark on the world! But you've never been good at that, have you?"

"Come _home._ " Yuusei says.

" _I don't want to._ " Kiryuu digs his fingers into Yuusei's skin and drags his hands down Yuusei's neck, down from his neck to his collarbones. Hhe leaves angry red marks on his skin. Yuusei doesn't even try to stop him. "I want more than that!"

He wants more than the life he has at Satisfaction Town. He wants more than to be a forgotten piece of Yuusei's past. Kiryuu has, always, wanted to matter — to someone, to the world, to be that spike of desire in the pulse of the universe. He tried, tried so hard, to be less than that and be content with the life he was given as a second chance but he couldn't do it. It's swirling around in his head, digging up old madness and he is just stepping aside, to let it in, because he wants to feel more than what he's been given.

He understands it, but what drives the stake into his heart is when he looks down at Yuusei, the droplets of blood welling up from the stuttering scratches on his neck, he sees that Yuusei understands too.

"Come home with me." Yuusei repeats, turns his face to the side so he can press his cheek into Kiryuu's wrist. He moves his hands away from Kiryuu's wrists. 

"Shut the fuck up, Yuusei. This is your fault." Kiryuu tries to snarl, to give into his anger that he knows is still there. The irrational part of him that lived so long with the knowledge of Yuusei's betrayal and made it more real through repetition. That hadn't been a dark god's fault at all. That had been Kiryuu all along. It had always been easier, though, to put the burden of self-satisfaction on someone else.

"Yeah, it is." Yuusei agrees, too easily and too readily.

"So, pay up already!" He bares his teeth, sweeps his arms open wide — like an invitation for Yuusei to hit him back, to leave welts on _his_ skin. For a moment, Kiryuu thinks Yuusei will leave, because his face is unreadable but then he sits up.

"I've never stopped loving you." Yuusei says it so simply, as if it's a fact of the universe. He takes Kiryuu's hand and brings it to his lips, so he can kiss his fingers, his palm, the inside of his wrist. "Please, come home with me."

Kiryuu focuses on the beads of blood on Yuusei's neck, just barely bites down a laugh and a demand for Yuusei to die for him, to show his devotion that way. Instead, he sneers and says, "I can't."

"You can." It's absolute faith, absolute affirmation. It's just so Yuusei. Kiryuu does laugh then, throws back his head and laughs and laughs and laughs. Yuusei doesn't miss a beat, he lets Kiryuu laugh but strips him of his jacket, pushes his long sleeves up so kisses can be left from wrist to elbow. "Do you want this?"

"Trying to make up for lost time? Was it ever any good for you?" Kiryuu tries to remember what it had been like, back then. It's funny, because he can only remember the emptiness in his chest when he thought Yuusei had betrayed him. There had to have been more, but it escapes his memory. 

"Do you want this?" Yuusei just repeats. Then, falters, just a little. "Do you want me?"

 _There it is_ the dark thing inside Kiryuu says.

"No." Kiryuu answers and laughs.

* * *

The end up fucking, anyway. But only because Kiryuu wants to and only after he rejects Yuusei and Yuusei gives Kiryuu his space and they spend two days being close and yet so distant. On the third day, then, Kiryuu presses himself against Yuusei's back and whispers in his ear, "Now, you can make it up to me."

Kiryuu doesn't want to see Yuusei's face, so he has him up against one of the large desert rocks. He presses against Yuusei's upper back with his forearm, thinks about the way that the rock will chafe against Yuusei's face, thinks they should have taken the time to strip but he's never liked to do things that way. It gets him excited, to think of fucking Yuusei raw against the harsh desert landscape, though.

They must have fucked against a chain fence at least once, before. Kiryuu can remember curling his fingers through the links, the slight give the fence had each time he thrust into Yuusei. He can't remember anything else about the encounter, though. It must not have been that important.

Once, he also remembers, they did it behind one of Security's outposts. It was one of the few times Yuusei had protested, shoved Kiryuu off and looked angry and reluctant until Kiryuu had sucked him off under an open window. Yuusei had gagged himself with both his hands and Kiryuu _knows_ what little sound did escape him had been well worth it.

"Tell me when you've had enough of me." Kiryuu says, he tries to make himself sound magnanimous.

He doesn't expect the slight amusement that's clear in Yuusei's posture, or the reply: "I'll take everything you give me."

There's something monstrous about it, Kiryuu thinks. Yuusei has his pants tugged down around his knees, his face pressed against a rock and Kiryuu plans on fucking him until they're both exhausted and _yet_.

"You're just as messed up as I am, aren't you?" Kiryuu hisses.

Yuusei _laughs_ , but it's almost humorless. He looks up, though Kiryuu figures he can only see rock and maybe a sliver of sky. "I'm here for you."

"For how long?" Kiryuu asks, but doesn't give Yuusei time to answer. He can't remember the last time they had sex. Was it before Crow and Jack left? Did they, at all, in Satisfaction Town? Kiryuu can only string together memories by his feelings, these days. Remembering the highs as joy and the lows as desolation. They were happy once, then they weren't. Being with Yuusei had been great once, and then it had been treacherous. Life in Satellite had been such a jumble of emotions, he didn't have a clear enough head to sort them out, now. It was long enough ago that everything about Yuusei's body feels unfamiliar. Kiryuu gives into his frustration, fucks Yuusei as hard as he can, crushing him against the rock wall.

Wouldn't it be better to kill him? The thought enters his head, runs parallel to Yuusei's harsh breathing and ragged whines of pleasure-pain. It would be easy too, to break his neck, to strangle him, to slide a knife in between his ribs. It's an intoxicating fantasy. What would it be like, to feel Yuusei's death throes while still buried inside of him? Kiryuu finishes first, to the mental image of Yuusei's blood mixing with semen on his hands. Yuusei comes only seconds later and Kiryuu gets the urge to hold him close and tell him that he loves him and it's pretty fucking terrible because he was just thinking about killing him.

"I can't do this," Kiryuu says, gives in and slides to the ground with his arms wrapped around Yuusei. He rocks them, buries his face in the crook of Yuusei's neck. "I'm fucking losing it." 

Yuusei doesn't say that he's been losing it for years, even though Kiryuu thinks he has every right to. Instead he just leans back, against Kiryuu and says, "I'm here for you." Yuusei grounds him, pulls him back to the present and away from his darker thoughts.

Somehow that just makes Kiryuu feel worse.

* * *

Yuusei refuses to argue with him and that's part of the problem. The other part of the problem is that Kiryuu can't keep track of reality and can't keep track of which of the nasty dark thoughts in his head are _his_. Or, he doesn't want to admit that they're all his.

"Is this the person you like so much? The me in front of you now?" Kiryuu asks him, throws the words at him and leans over him. Too often, Yuusei just turns away from him or says, in that quiet supportive way, _I'm here for you._ and Kiryuu doesn't fucking want that.

He doesn't really know what he wants from Yuusei. It's unfathomable how easy Yuusei can say _I love you_ and equally unfathomable how Kiryuu knows it's true. The closest he can find is that he can't quite kill Yuusei. He can get close — hands around Yuusei's throat, thumbs against the vein in Yuusei's wrists, or tracing the path of the artery in his leg.

But, he would miss Yuusei if he was gone and there is the problem. It's like all the feelings that should be positive — love, safety, adoration — have been boiled until there's nothing left but residue. Hate, excitement, infatuation. The dark marks on Kiryuu's soul go deeper than he could ever erase and, often, he knows it.

"I could have killed you!" He snaps, irritable because — because he could have. Because Yuusei had just looked at him levelly, the same expression he has on now, with _trust_ that Kiryuu sure as hell doesn't deserve.

"But you didn't." Yuusei defends, as if that means something.

"I _want_ too." Kiryuu feels angry and then he feels empty. He needs more, he _craves_ more. And he knows Yuusei will give him more. "If I asked you for a finger, would you give me one? Maybe a hand! Maybe your life!" He knows he must sound hysterical, he doesn't care. He's mostly serious, anyway. It's tempting to think of parceling up the best parts of Yuusei, coveting them and not having to deal with the guilt he sees on Yuusei's face every time they speak. It would be nice to have all the pieces of Yuusei he liked without having to deal with his voice, with the way his hands tried to be steady and failed, with the way he leaned back and let Kiryuu bruise his neck and hips. Maybe Kiryuu should carve out his heart.

"I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back." Yuusei says, but they both know there is the lie. Yuusei can't be anyone but himself and Kiryuu can't be anyone but himself and together they're stuck this way.

"Just go home, Yuusei." Kiryuu says, tiredly. "You've never been enough for me anyway." He wants to be more cruel than that, to see if Yuusei will crumble. He wants to see Yuusei cry, turn away and drive off.

He wants, really, Yuusei to stay with him forever. He's tired of watching Yuusei go. He's even more tired of watching Yuusei steel himself and then submit.

"I made a promise."

"You've broken so many promises, Yuusei, it doesn't even count anymore." Kiryuu laughs, gestures, rudely. "How many times have we been over this? You never stay, I never go. We keep meeting up because of _fate_ but where's your desire in it all? Where's the proof that you were even here to begin with? Where's _my_ proof. Make a choice, you have to make a goddamn choice some time, Yuusei. Is this the me that you've been after for so long? I certainly feel like my old self. What's our next target then, after I murder you? Ghosts make great teammates, haunt me all you want, then."

Yuusei's expression says he's having a hard time following Kiryuu's logic, but also that he's thinking. 

"You can't always lead from behind, Yuusei." Kiryuu continues. "Desire is proof that you're alive! Where's _your proof_!?"

"I've been afraid of losing you," Yuusei slowly starts. There's a flush to his cheeks that isn't embarrassment, but shame. "I never wanted to lose you."

"Too bad, too bad, what would you call this? What would you call _me_? Am I a lost cause yet for you?"

"No! — but I've always hated this side of you." Yuusei finally says it, lifts his chin and looks Kiryuu dead in the eyes.

Something inside Kiryuu breaks against the hard rocks of Yuusei's determination. Fragments and fragments and he's suddenly lost. It's funny, because Kiryuu's never wondered what kind of expectations Yuusei has for him. Kiryuu always had them for the others — loyalty, to stay with him, to fight for his cause and for Yuusei, to come back to him and later, to save him.

He wonders what the unknown feeling is that burns from his chest to the soles of his feet.

"I don't know how I can help," Yuusei continues, "And, sometimes, I think that I can't. But I won't let you face this alone."

Kiryuu laughs. He laughs because he doesn't know what else to do and the unknown feeling keeps burning through him like a wildfire. Finally, _finally_ he gets out, "So fucking help me already."

* * *

Yuusei doesn't let him punch him, this time. He catches Kiryuu's fist, yanks and drops him to the ground. Kiryuu laughs and curses at him — he _can't believe_ Yuusei's fighting back, that isn't how this goes, it's _never_ gone this way — but the determination on Yuusei's face is only belied by the tears at the corners of his eyes.

"We're going home together, happy and whole." Yuusei says, firmly, straddles Kiryuu's waist and holds his hands down in the sand. "Talk to me."

Kiryuu refuses and Yuusei only lets him up because they've gotten to a stalemate. They repeat it, twice more, before on the fourth time Kiryuu doesn't try to punch Yuusei at all but sits on the dirt and looks up at the sky.

"Nico and West deserve better." Then, with an oddly cocky grin that is so much like the one he wore during Team Satisfaction, "So do you."

"I can make my own choices," Yuusei says, softly. "And I choose to be with you."

"And then you'll leave."

"You can come with me."

"I can't."

"You won't."

"And you won't stay either, so how much fun are we having!" Kiryuu snarls, feels anger at everything well up inside of him — but it's easier to identify, now. He's angry at Yuusei because Yuusei never stays, because Yuusei always goes back to Domino out of some bizarre obligation that Kiryuu has never understood. He's angry because _fuck_ the city. Fuck the Security-turned-police as if that changes who they are, fuck the people who think things will get better just because, fuck the years spent in Satellite. He hates that they never made it a better place, the way he wanted them to. He hates that Team Satisfaction will never be the same, that _he'll_ never be the same. He's angry because he doesn't feel _that_ bad about summoning Ccapac Apu, but he feels bad that he doesn't feel bad. It's easier, now, to see his petty feelings for what they are and how they pale next to Yuusei's monstrous generosity.

He hates that, too.

"You have to compromise as well." Yuusei says, for the first time in Kiryuu's memory. "If this is going to work, we both have to try."

"That won't be enough to satisfy me," Kiryuu laughs. Nothing ever will. It's like being hungry, he'll stop craving when he's dead.

"You don't know until you try."

In the end, Yuusei's stubbornness wins that round. Kiryuu agrees to try and spends the night focusing on how nice it is to be held, to be _with_ Yuusei. Only once does he imagine something pleasantly awful and it's only because, again, he sees that scar on Yuusei's stomach.

The truth is, Kiryuu enjoys following his own whims more than he does anything else. And, Yuusei, who spends so much time and energy trying to support people in the pursuit of their own happiness, has finally pointed it out to him as something he should change. It makes him sick.

But also, he realizes, he can do better.

When Yuusei leaves, this time, the ugly little voice in the back of Kiryuu's head won't be quiet. It tells him that Yuusei will never come back that once a traitor, always a traitor and that if Kiryuu _really_ wants to be happy he should kill Yuusei and bury his body in the desert. But Kiryuu smiles, waves and tells the dark voice to shut the fuck up.

It won't be quiet, of course. It's the same part of him that propels him out of bed every morning, the promise of something new or exciting on the horizon. It's the same part of him that kept him alive, all those years in Satellite, and it's part of him that's as black and vicious as any definition of fun.

"I'll be back next month," Yuusei had said, kissed Kiryuu's forehead and hands and held onto him like a lifeline. "We'll make it."

This is something that Yuusei has always known and Kiryuu had thought it was one of his stupid naivities. There isn't _just_ life, as if it's always going to be easy and always going to be pleasant. Living is hard as fuck, even when there's nothing going on. The things that kept him alive won't always be useful, and his darkest parts are also his most truthful ones.

But he wants to see Yuusei next month. He wants to see Nico and West trust him. He wants it more than momentary pleasure and dark whims. He just didn't want it to be so hard.

"We'll make it, or die trying," he had said and had laughed — a new and strange laugh, for him — a little anticipatory, a little fond, one part dissatisfied but also one part hopeful.


End file.
